


hiraeth

by Acacius



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: F/M, OT3 if you squint, Other, Reincarnation, but mostly Cassidy/Tulip tbh, not much to say other than this still ends in tragedy s orry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 18:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11811987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acacius/pseuds/Acacius
Summary: role reversal au | a preacher-turned-vampire, a woman with a demon-angel hybrid inside her, and a lazy hitman with a penchant for debauchery collide in the strangest of ways.





	hiraeth

hiraeth: (n) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.  
.  
.

When Jesse Custer returns to Annville in the dead of night, he doesn’t expect the entire town at his doorstep the next morning. He doesn’t even have time to wonder who had caught sight of his shitty blue pickup pulling into the lot before he was shaking hands and offering a few words of welcome. Being polite wasn’t necessarily in his nature (at least not in the traditional sense—he was a man of few words, after all), but his daddy had instilled a strong code of southern ethics that made him clasp people on the shoulder, offer them a drink, and make sure he remembered their name. 

Lucky for him, only Sherriff Root, his son Eugene, and Emily Woodrow take his offer. The rest of the townsfolk had their fill of gossip for a morning and leave, all hushed whispers and coy smiles. Jesse, for all his hard edges and gruff persona, softens as he stands in his childhood kitchen, filling up three mismatched glasses with water from the tap. It is only due to a fleeting afterthought that he opens up the drawer near the sink and rips open an old package of straws. He shoves a pink bendy one in the third glass, offering it to Eugene, who takes the drink with a lisped thanks. 

Jesse tries not to wince when he looks at him, but damn—the boy was just learning how to ride a bike when Jesse left, all golden hair and innocent, warm grins. The revolting afterimage of the kid now was the stuff of nightmares. Whatever had happened—and Jesse has a few good ideas as to what—had left its mark, both physically and psychologically, if the way in which the sheriff wouldn’t even look in Eugene’s direction was any indicator. 

“Got back last night, I hear?” Emily starts, fingers tapping lightly against the rickety table. Dust circles the surface at the movement, though it appears that the woman doesn’t care—or doesn’t notice. Only Eugene really acts like he should when entering a home layered in dust; the kid’s got one sleeve pressed to his nose, another pressed to his… well… what was once a mouth. Sheriff Root leans back in the wooden chair, legs spread out as he gives a lazy look to Jesse. It was apparent that he was just here because Eugene wanted to be. 

Jesse nods, leaning back against the counter. “Mhmm. Drove straight from Mississippi to Texas and that took about nine hours so it was already late by the time I got back.” 

Emily murmurs a hushed “Oh,” fingers still dancing across the table. 

“…You alright?” 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She pauses, looking up at Jesse with wide blue eyes. “I-I don’t mean to pry… but why are you back? Of all the people to up and leave Annville, you were the last I thought I’d see crawling back.” She sounds dejected—disappointed, even. 

It makes Jesse squirm under her gaze. He rubs at the back of his neck. “Well, I reckoned it was about time I stopped by. Needed a change of pace. Annville’s got its charm.” 

And that it did. It had a multi-million dollar meat-packaging industry, a run-down motel, a brothel, a dilapidated hardware store, a pawnshop, multiple gun ranges, a handful of miscellaneous shops, and the Flavour Station. Perfect place to run to when you’d been bitten by an old hag in a swamp, burst into flames at the barest touch of sunlight, and now need to drink blood to survive. Annville was full of eccentric folk, from Donnie, local gun-toting, war-reenactment aficionado, to ol’ Odin Quincannon who practically worshipped the “art” of slaughterhouses, and Jesse doubted people would be too put off if he had to walk around with an umbrella during the day. Maybe he’d get a few stares, but at the end of the day, he was Annville born-and-raised, and not even a little quirk could change that. 

“Got any plans for the church?” Sheriff Root interjects for the first time since sitting down at the table. An excited look crosses Eugene’s face, eyebrows raised, and it actually kind of hurts to see the kid still looking so hopeful—not even a disfigured maw could keep Eugene’s optimism at bay. 

In some ways, not much had really changed since he’d left. But that could be said of any small town, Jesse imagined. 

Calloused fingers grip the edge of the counter as Jesse straightens up. He clears his throat, tugging at the damp collar of his shirt. It was so hot in Texas and of course the air-conditioner wasn’t working—not that it really worked often when he did live here. Still, he had come back to Annville for a greater reason than simply running away from his problems. 

“Starting next Sunday, I plan to reopen the church.” 

…

A few weeks go by in the blink of an eye. 

Jesse wonders briefly if time always seemed so fleeting before getting bit by some monster in the Louisiana River, but he buries the question down deep inside him, right beside his childhood trauma and the creaking sound of a closing lid. He’d always been good at ignoring his feelings—ignoring every negative thought and problem till he could barely function sober. Even now, despite having the church and an entire congregation of somewhat willing ears to guide, he still couldn’t put the damn bottle down. Or the cigarettes. He really was a piece of work—the only preacher for miles and he was the one who ended up hung-over come Sunday morning service. 

He’s had two weeks of service so far, and on his first real sermon, he ended up leaving his Bible back in his room and had to scurry over mid-sermon to get it. On the second service, he mispronounced Job (“joe-b,” not “job,” Emily whispered from her seat at the organ) and stumbled over his words multiple times, so much so that Eugene, sitting right in the front row, asked Jesse if he was alright.

(He wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t.)

The worst part was that he could feel his already small congregation dwindling out. Only Emily and the Root family had shown up to both services and the number of people who showed up in the second week was down by more than half. He’d be out of his flock of sheep in no time at all. 

And, of course, the greatest blow to his attempts at preaching: the gossip that swirled amongst the supposedly kind and Christian churchgoers, “Turns out, Jesse Custer’s not even half the preacher his daddy was.” 

All in all, two weeks in, and Jesse was ready to nurse a bottle of whiskey for the rest of his future, which would have inevitably ended in early kidney disease and an amalgamation of other diseases caused by his vices—if he weren’t already figuratively (and at times literally) dead. 

It’s no wonder that he’d jump at the chance to pull some dangerous shit, the ever-present darkness near intoxicating now that he had nothing but alcohol and cigarettes to fill the time. 

One day, his cyclical hell was suddenly interrupted. 

Against his better judgment and the warning bells blaring in the back of his head, he ends up letting two “hitchhikers” stay in the attic above the church. He convinces himself that it’s because it’s the right thing to do, even if the guy’s got enough blood covering him to make Jesse’s throat constrict and the woman’s dark eyes make his stomach do flip-flops. 

(if he were to really stop and think he’d realize that the supposed act of kindness is rooted in selfishness—in wanting to be a hero, in wanting people to like him, to not wanting to be alone anymore—but he downs another beer and suddenly, he just doesn’t care enough to psychoanalyze himself)

There’s something profoundly off about the entire situation, with every waking moment stirring up a vague feeling of déjà vu, but in typical Jesse fashion, he ignores it in favor of getting drunk. With the both of them. Inside the church. 

“Padre, here I thought I was a magnet for trouble—you’re practically a lightning rod on top of the highest building in the world!” The man, ‘ just Cassidy, ‘ says once he’s cleaned up. None of Jesse’s clothes will fit him (he’s so skinny that the preacher almost feels inclined to warm him up a microwaveable dinner) so he’s allowed to go rummaging in the church donation bin for clothes. He ends up looking like a Wal-Mart aisle threw up on him, but Cassidy doesn’t complain. In fact, he looks more confortable than most should, smiling brightly as he sits down beside Jesse on the pew, the grey butterfly shirt looking surprisingly fitting on his lanky frame. 

Jesse hands him the bottle of Ratwater, lighting up a cigarette and puffing out smoke a moment later. Cassidy takes the bottle with a hearty thanks, downing half of it in one fell swoop. 

“Not much of a talker, are ya? That’s fine by me. I’ve got plenty of stories to tell.” There’s a sharpness to his grin that brings about flashes of the woman in the swamp who’d gone and turned Jesse into a bloodsucking abomination, but the thoughts are quieted when Tulip enters through the double-doors, arms folded.

“You guys good in here?” She asks, moving to sit on the opposite side of Jesse. Cassidy gives her a “kicked puppy” sort of look but says nothing, bringing the whiskey back to his lips. 

“Yeah, just chattin’ and drinking—you know, stereotypical guy stuff.” Cassidy drawls, offering the bottle to Tulip. She shakes her head, gaze flitting over to Jesse. 

“So, you’re really a preacher? Following in your daddy’s footsteps, I see.” 

“How do you know about—“ 

“There’s a picture of him in your room. I’m a bit nosy.” She pauses, reaching into the pocket of her leather jacket to procure a pack of Camels. Jesse lights the cigarette without Tulip having to ask and in the brief curl of her lips that disappear behind a cloud of smoke, Jesse swears on his life that he’d seen this woman somewhere before. 

Apparently, his outright gawking at her was weird enough that she had to knock him in the shoulder. Cassidy just gives an amused look, an eyebrow quirking up. Ah, that was his girl… 

“Don’t just stare and say nothing, it’s creepy!” 

“Have we met somewhere before?” Jesse asks without thinking. 

Tulip rolls her eyes. “Of course you’d remember. I do too. Vaguely. We went to school together. For a little bit. Does the last name O’Hare ring a bell?” 

Realization flickers across his face. “I remember now. You transferred out one summer. Moved away from Annville.” 

“That she did,” Cassidy interrupts, giving a burp. “Ended up at the same shite orphanage that I did. My parents had to go an’ die on me when I was ten. For whatever reason, Tulip here didn’t much mind an eejit like me with a funny accent who was always getting into scraps. One time she actually punched this bully of mine—an arsehole, truly, and built like a bull—and it was love at first sight.” 

Tulip waved a hand dismissively, the smoke from the cigarette swirling around her. “Yeah, and I broke my hand from that. Cass helped me get around during that time—talked my ear off. But it was nice, I guess.” 

“Just nice!?”

Jesse, buzzed and not entirely able to follow the rapid-fire bickering that devolved around him, gave a nod, slouching back into the pew. “You two are something, that’s for sure…” 

…

Life with his two new free-loaders was definitely something, as Jesse had anticipated. 

Sure, Cass had tried numerous times to “fix” the air-conditioning, but it was actually Tulip who got the damn thing to work again. It was also Tulip who helped Emily run errands for the church. Still, Cassidy, for all his faults and lack of motivation, did help tidy up. He was surprisingly good at cleaning, especially for someone who sometimes dressed like he didn’t even know what a shower was. 

When questioned, he just shrugged. “I don’t know, Padre. I just always took up the chores back at the orphanage. Gave me something to do.” The fact that he didn’t even have to ask Jesse where any of the cleaning supplies was, or somehow had preternatural knowledge of all the places in the church that got dirty the fastest, was not addressed. Hell, he even knew where all the cobwebs were—something that Jesse hadn’t learned until the tenth or so time when his daddy made him clean the church. 

All weirdness aside, there was a novel sense of domesticity now that he wasn’t living alone and while there were times where they fought, where they went and did their own thing, where their three equally stubborn personalities clashed, at the end of the day, Jesse had come back home to Annville and found a family. 

Which is why the next part was going to hurt. 

“I’ve got something to tell you.” Jesse starts, taking a few steps back from the pair. His collar feels too tight, constricting even, and he stops to unbutton the top few clasps. 

Cass winks in return, leaning back in the same pew that he’d chosen the first night he and Tulip had shacked up with the preacher. “We know, Padre. No worries here; I don’t mind if you’ve got a crush on us. I mean come on, with faces like ours, it’d be damn difficult not to.” 

Tulip elbows him in the stomach a moment later. “You idiot, he’s tryin’ to be serious.” 

“I was being serious too—“ Cass starts, but bites his tongue the second he sees Tulip’s eyes boring into his. 

“Go on, Jesse. What’s up?” 

“I’ve been hiding something from you guys. I don’t know how else to prove it other than showing you, so…” he rolls up his sleeve and sticks his arm directly into the nearest ray of sunlight, letting his skin catch fire. He curses and winces, pulling back and cradling his arm to his chest once the fire dissipates.

Tulip is the first to recover from her shock as Cassidy is still staring at the man, slack-jawed and incapable of speech. She shuffles off to the kitchen and returns with some sort of topical cream, a basin of water, and bandages. A washcloth hangs off her shoulder as she motions for Jesse to sit. 

Gently, and with a kindness Jesse hadn’t known for years, she meticulously cleans up and wraps the burn, her tongue sticking out subconsciously while she’s focused. She pats his arm gently before stepping back to sit with Cass on the pew behind Jesse. He wraps an arm lazily around her waist, snapping out of whatever reverie he had been lost in. 

“Jesse Custer, you are a complete idiot.” 

“For setting my arm on fire?” 

She rolls her eyes. “No. You’re an idiot because I already knew you were a vampire. You keep friggin’ blood packets in the ice-box.” 

“I-I didn’t know!” Cassidy protests, glancing at Tulip and then Jesse. “I just thought you had a weird fetish or something. Sorry that my mind doesn’t immediately jump to the supernatural like yours!” 

And, with nothing much else to do, Jesse tips his head back and laughs. Before long, Tulip and Cassidy are too. Three idiots, the lot of them, laughing inside an otherwise empty church. 

Jesse regretted a lot of things, but he knew he’d never regret returning to Annville. 

Later, when their laughter died down and they’re mulling about the church, getting ready for tomorrow’s service, Cassidy pipes up, “I’ve got a secret too, ya know. I like Justin Bieber. And I’m also a hitman. Don’t worry though; I only kill people who deserve it. There’s still a chance for me to enter Heaven’s pearly gates yet!” 

Jesse sighs, running a hand down his face. “Whatever you say, Cass.”  


…

  
Their fragile peace is wholly shattered in a single moment.

It’s just another night with the only two people Jesse’s really cared about since his daddy died, smoking and drinking and chatting, when a sudden chill overtakes the church. 

Cassidy shivers in his sleeveless tank, pulling his legs up on the pew as his teeth chatter. “Jaysus, I think you might’ve fixed the air conditioning too well, luv.” 

Tulip ignores him. “This is weird. Jesse, is this place haunted or something?” 

Before the preacher can respond, the double doors swing open and a near invisible force barrels into the pulpit. The cross cracks and falls to the wooden floors as the trio stands, backs pressed against each other. 

“What the bloody hell is—“ Cassidy is cut off when suddenly, Tulip is thrown backwards, knocking Cassidy and Jesse down with her. Her smaller form is curled against the both of them, thanks to the pair both wrapping their arms around her back reflexively. 

“Tulip? Luv? Are you alright?” There’s a franticness bleeding into Cass’ voice as he props the woman’s head against his knees, running a hand through her short curls. Jesse hovers beside him, dark eyes narrowed with worry even as Tulip awakens, confusion twisting her features. 

“…What happened? Why does it feel like I got hit by a bus?” 

Jesse and Cassidy share a look. “You got hit by something, luv. I don’t know what, but here, let’s check you over, make sure you’re not bleeding or anything.” 

“She’s not bleeding.” Jesse supplies, ignoring the weird look they both give him. 

“Still, I’m gonna take her to the hospital. What if she hit her head?” 

“I’m fine, Cass. Really. Sore, but I don’t feel like I hit my head on anythin’ except maybe your bony ass.” Tulip interjects, adding her own brand of humor into things. Jesse nods, standing up to offer Tulip a hand. She takes it with a grin, pulling herself up, and Jesse tries to ignore the flash of something in his periphery. Like the edges of a fading film-reel, he sees a few short images. Black curls. Pulling a tired looking Tulip into a hug. Fingers intertwined underneath white sheets. 

A sinking feeling echoes in the pit of Jesse’s stomach. 

“Are you sure? I think we should go, just to be safe—“ 

“Cassidy, STOP.” The voice that comes out of her throat is not her own and she nearly falls back again as Cassidy stares at her wide-eyed, still sprawled out on the church floor. 

“Oh shit…” Jesse mutters, running a hand through his hair. 

…

A few days later, they meet two celestial beings. 

Technically, Jesse had met them already—having had to cut them up and discard their bodies when Tulip and Cass were passed out in the church. He still had a faint chainsaw scar on his shoulder, and there’s a silent tension between him and the two men, which quickly dissolves the second he sees the taller one scarfing down a burger with inhuman speed. Something about seeing the man you killed not even a day ago innocently enjoying a burger really takes the anger out of you. 

“We’re angels. The both of us.” They explain at the diner, only a few feet away from Sherriff Root, who merely gives the two oddly dressed men a weird look before shuffling back to his own booth. There are plenty of people around; it’s lunch time and while they’re discussing the fate of the world, there are kids drinking milkshakes, Donnie eating a burger while glaring at Jesse for some reason, and a host of other people who often attend Jesse’s service scattered about. 

“Lower your voices, Jaysis.” Cassidy hisses, scanning the Flavour Station in a much too obvious fashion for someone who was actually a fairly good gun-for-hire.

“I’m guessing you’re here for whatever… this _thing_ is.” Tulip motions to herself. “Take it back. I don’t like how it feels. Like I’ve got somethin’ living inside me.” 

“That’s because you do have something inside you. A very important something. A being that could bring about the destruction of the entire world!” Fiore says, pausing to take a huge bite of his burger. 

DeBlanc sighs. “Well, it could cause destruction, but it’s not all bad. It was born from the union of an angel and demon—something that shouldn’t be, but is.” 

“Wait, so like a baby?” Jesse asks, stuffing a fry into his mouth before reaching to close the blinds near their window. He’d had enough burning to last him awhile already, thank you very much. 

DeBlanc sighs again. “Sure. A baby, whatever you want to call it. Genesis is dangerous and we’re its keepers. We need it back.” He pauses. “Please.” 

Tulip shrugs, taking some fries from the otherwise ketchup-y mess thanks to Cassidy. “I’d like to give this Genesis thing back, but on principle, I dunno if I can trust two weirdo’s in cowboy hats who say their angels. What if you’re demons instead? And I give it back and you go and destroy the earth or something like that?” 

“She’s got a point. Good one, Tulip.” Cassidy gives a thumbs-up, raising his hand above Jesse’s head so Tulip can see. 

This time, Fiore and DeBlanc sigh at the same time. “Fine. What will make you trust us?” 

Tulip smirks, stealing a fry from Fiore’s plate. His shocked expression is enough to coax a giggle out of her. “Well… you see, I’d like to talk to God himself about this.”  


…

  
So they call God. In front of Jesse’s entire congregation—which ends up being the entire town because Cassidy can’t seem to keep his big mouth shut. A rumor here, a word or two down at the bar, and suddenly everyone’s at church Sunday morning when Fiore and Deblanc agree to call God.

“I didn’t say we’d do it in front of all these people,” Fiore starts, but is silenced by Tulip’s glare. 

“Well, they deserve to know what’s true, too. Come on, call God. And I swear, if he’s just some old white dude in the sky I’m gonna keep Genesis and use it to cause trouble myself!” 

Cassidy grins wryly. “I almost hope he’s some gobeshite. We could get into a lot of trouble with your power, luv.” 

Jesse steps up to the pulpit and read off a few passages from his Bible. God or not, this was his church and he’d get in a final word or two before God stole the show. Besides, this was the most number of people he’d ever gotten to come to church—something, however unimportant, still reminded him of the times when his daddy used to preach. And while the numbers weren’t hard earned, he felt something akin to accomplishment in at least getting these people to see God, in the flesh. 

What transpired after was nothing short of depressing. Suddenly there is a fake God, a God missing on earth, and two celestial beings that somehow get roped into a road-trip to find said God. Tulip doesn’t return Genesis even though she rarely uses it because she still hasn’t heard a word from God and she still can’t trust two guys that otherwise appeared out of thin air. 

Annville, seemingly predestined for destruction, explodes just as the quintet book it outta town. When it happens, Fiore and Deblanc share a saddened look. There are some sadness’s that even celestial beings understand too well:

The loss of something irreplaceable. 

…

Inevitably, shit hits the fan. 

It was bound to. Three morally grey, beyond damaged individuals working together to find God? They were doomed from the start. No amount of celestial guidance could save them from a fate predestined—a fate they’d bore multiple times before. 

They face the light together, hands intertwined, three souls on the precipice of heaven and hell. 

_Oh_ , Jesse thinks in his last moments, when the scales fall from his eyes and he sees them, truly sees them, _we’ve wasted another lifetime. Fuck._

The gunfire explodes behind their eyelids and the scene pauses just as a bullet pierces Cassidy’s chest. And rewinds. All the way back to the beginning. 

Back to when Jesse was just a boy under his father’s heavy gaze, to when Tulip was just a girl without a home, and to when Cassidy was stuck somewhere between two possible fates: as a poor Irish boy begging for scraps, or an orphan somewhere under the Texas sun. The first, harder fate is chosen for him this time.

One second, they’re on the verge of death and in the next, they’ve reset, returned to pawns on a chessboard that exists outside of time. But they exist and that’s more than what most people—whether they knew it or not—could say.  


...

Somewhere, beyond the chaos of humanity, an angel and a demon sit perched above a translucent pool. 

“See, I told you, this universe is no good.” The larger mass of fading and ebbing stars says, supernova after supernova exploding behind incorporeal eyelids. 

“Still better than the one where that Irish fool got ahold of Genesis—earth got wiped out in the span of twelve hours.” The other mass retorts, two black holes echoing in the vastness of space. 

Fiore, if in his human form, would’ve responded with a slight widening of his eyes that always seemed a tad childlike in DeBlanc’s opinion. But they aren’t corporeal, they aren’t much of anything right now other than the forgotten bits of God’s creation, the leftovers from when He created the infinite universes that collide and shift and change, the universes that all seem to converge in a little town in Texas called Annville. 

“…Should we really try again?” Fiore asks as another star dies inside him. 

Silence. The sort of vacuum that all high-school physics questions take place in is brought to life, entropy paused for the moment. The next few words ring out at a decibel below human hearing, but Fiore hears DeBlanc just fine. “I believe it’s about time we give the preacher another chance. Of the three, he’s the one whose soul best mirrors Genesis, after all.” 

And so, with their final vestments of celestial light discarded at their feet, Fiore and DeBlanc fall into the translucent ebb and flow of time. One more chance—that was all they got before He would inevitably notice their absence. 

Of all the ironies it would be a no-good, chain-smoking, blasphemous, alcoholic preacher who controlled the fate of the world. God certainly had an awful sense of humor. If this wasn’t already the 12th time they had to wade through this singular universe, they might have even laughed with Him.

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: first preacher fic ^^; hope you guys enjoyed it!! i love imagining the trio in different au’s/scenarios so feel free to offer up any other fanfic ideas either here or @ my tumblr triumviratuse. it’s a purely preacher blog so if you’re interested in shorter works of fanfic, meta, or edits, give it a look :3c 
> 
> -acacius


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